Beam me up

Swallow. My mouth quickly floods again at the feint smell of vinegar.  It is not hunger or anything normal; it is the frantic feeling of anticipation for my next shot.  Sitting in a hot car for hours. Text received: Be there in thirty. Four hours later, Text received: be there in 25. I think to myself,”He really means it this time.”

It is time to relax. I sit on the couch and slowly string my thoroughly probed arm through the slip tie of my belt.  I draw fresh water from the cap of a water bottle. 16.. 17… 35 grains.. this should be enough. I set the freshly drawn water to the side, and I redirect my attention to the foil on the table next to a q-tip. I unwrap my rations for the night and slice a chunk from a large black ball. It breaks off in shards of hard glassy rock. I lick my finger lightly and gather the black chunks I have designated for my spoon. I pull the bent and mangled spoon to my face as I shower the black chunks in 35 grains of water. Swallow. I boil it to a sizzle filling my nasal passage with aroma of sweet vinegar. Something I missed so much. Swallow. I pull a piece of cotton off of the q-tip sitting on the table. I apply it to the mess of black *** that once was solid, and I quickly re-apply the needle soaking up the 35 grains of water, now with a black oily consistency. I focus on my mangled arm and pull the black belt tight until I can see my blue icy veins bulge. I slowly apply the needle to the skin until a bright hair like red streak shoots up the shaft. Swallow. I take a deep breathe and empty the syringe of black bile into my arm. My legs, the back of my neck, the crown of my head all warms in flush of elation and amazement. My head drops to my chest and I love life for that moment.